Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Petrin Count Family
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"Heh heh... ha ha... kekeke...."
"Kaier, what's wrong?"
Back in the room after returning from the Spirit Tower.
Rusel asked about my condition in a worried voice, looking at me laughing like a madman on the bed.
"Go take care of your business. I'm fine. Heh heh...."
Whether I closed my eyes or opened them, Silphiria's face came to mind.
'Should I just hurl myself into the Spirit Realm?'
She was beautiful.
No more words were needed; any further praise would be an insult to her.
Her sculpted face shone brighter than her transparent silver armor.
No other being had ever bestowed upon me such mystical beauty.
'Silver eyes.... I'll never forget them for the rest of my life.'
I hadn't properly experienced it yet, but even the sharp memory of my first kiss wouldn't compare.
Silphiria had drawn a defining stroke across my life.
'Ugh, but how the hell do I summon her!'
The problem was that my mana was still woefully insufficient to summon such a Silphiria.
'At least 7th Circle to summon her without strain. 7th Circle....'
The 7th Circle, treated as the realm of Archmages.
I couldn't wait around for the uncertain arrival of the 6th Circle, let alone the 7th.
Rustle.
"Wh-what are you doing!"
Rusel suddenly grabbed my face tightly with his hand.
"Hmm, I see."
He brought his finger to his mouth and savored the taste.
"You're completely out of your mind. Tsk tsk. And so young, too. Poor guy."
Rusel clicked his tongue, turning me into a raving lunatic.
I couldn't just take this lying down.
Grab!
"Ack!"
I tackled Rusel's waist with a strong hold as he stood by the bed.
A unfamiliar scream echoed through the room at that moment.
'Whoa, why does this feel so good.'
Rusel's slender waist, unbelievable for a man.
It wrapped around me like embracing a lover, making my heart race again.
'This sensation....'
As I tackled his waist, my head naturally pressed against Rusel's chest, feeling a subtle bounce.
A cozy warmth spread through my body, like being in my mother's arms.
Thwack!
"Guh!"
A powerful strike from Rusel on my back.
"Pervert! You're dead!"
Thwack thwack thwack!
Rusel's relentless barrage of blows.
"Guh! Ack!"
Screams burst nonstop from my mouth.
But like a drowning man, my hands never let go of Rusel's waist.
Just like the title of some third-rate erotic film from long ago.
Even death like this would be fine.
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'Time flies, huh.'
Five months had already passed since enrolling in the Knight Academy.
Classes on spirits and magic, followed by sparring, essential liberal arts, and library pilgrimages.
The study habits ingrained at Daehan High School manifested here as well.
And now, the first semester's classes were nearly over.
"Wh-what are you going to do with me?"
Tedran squeaked like a cornered rat.
Smirk.
Instead of answering, I stared at his face.
"D-do you want to keep living in this empire? I'm the heir to the Pasain Ducal House."
The ducal heir line I'd heard hammered into my ears until they bled.
"I'll forgive you. If you stop here, I'll let you—er, you—go unscathed."
Tedran, rolling his cunning brain to foresee the horrific pain ahead.
His underlings, who had bravely stood in his way, had all been singled out by me and left with broken limbs after every spar.
And today, his fateful turn.
Instead of resisting, he tried to scheme.
Swoosh.
My sword hand rose upward.
"I-I'm friends with the Crown Prince!"
'Crown Prince's friend?'
A name carrying even more weight than ducal heir.
'The prickly, explosive crown prince candidate, Poltviran.'
The one I'd seen at the entrance ceremony, called the Holy Emperor, son of Emperor Habitron, revered by the imperial citizens.
Born not of the Empress but a consort, yet named Crown Prince as the firstborn.
From academy rumors, he took after neither his father the Emperor—his personality was rotten, with wild mood swings.
Rumored to seize whatever he wanted since childhood, an arrogant brat.
I'd never met him, but I knew he was a total asshole.
"Heh heh, that's right. No matter how ignorant a commoner bumpkin you are, you can't lift your head before His Highness the next Emperor."
Seeing me pause at the Crown Prince's name, Tedran grinned slyly with a victor's smile.
"How long do you think your meager sword skills will hold out? Sure, in the Knight Academy, all trainees are equal... but the moment you step outside, you'll learn bone-deep what a noble is."
His mouth spewed venom, full of pent-up grudges.
"Now do you get it? Heh heh, good. If you want to survive in the Empire. Heh heh heh."
With no reaction from me, Tedran grew brazen.
"You done?"
A cold word slipped through my lips.
"....."
My tone's chill made Tedran's body twitch and stiffen.
"I warned you at the start, didn't I? If you don't shape up, I'd bury you under the training grounds."
"Y-you bastard...."
Even after seeing his goons break arms and legs in spars, Tedran hadn't learned.
Deep-rooted irredeemable asshole, I judged.
"There's a saying where I'm from: A dog that won't listen gets beaten every three days. Heh heh."
I let out a wicked laugh, radiating killing intent.
Like his other goons who tucked tail and bowed to me, Tedran needed some tough love too.
Stumble stumble.
As I approached with a smile, he backed away.
'These are the ones who'll rule the Empire as great nobles? This empire's doomed.'
From the Crown Prince to these spoiled noble brats.
Anyone not an idiot could foresee the Empire's future.
"Die!"
A spar, yet he shouted "die" as his wooden sword flew.
Crack!
I smacked his sword with mine.
'Enrolled on connections, not skill!'
The Imperial Sky Knight Academy, for 4th Circle mages, mid-tier spiritists, and Blade Knights only.
Yet Alfonso and other noble heirs lacked the chops.
Connection admission.
An exception: those whose houses could provide wyverns needed only basic skills to enroll.
That was it.
Tedran, Alfonso, Lucieira—these connection admits had entered Sky Knight via that loophole.
Crunch.
I blocked Tedran's two-handed head strike with one hand.
I gripped harder.
"Hya!"
With a short shout, I swept my sword at his waist.
"Arrrghhhh!"
Not even touched, yet he screamed.
Snap.
Unable to shatter ribs, I twisted and smashed his right leg bone.
"Guh!"
Tedran's agonized cry.
Unfamiliar torture for a ducal heir.
Humiliatingly, piss soaked his pants.
"Next time... I really bury you."
A quiet murmur.
I imprinted myself on his terrified, pain-twisted eyes.
Soaking my killing intent in mana.
"Arrrghhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"Hohohohohohohoho!"
"I-I wanna go home!! Waaahhhhh!"
All eyes on my bout with Tedran.
And another bout nearby.
"Hohoho! Should've done that sooner. Hohoho, hohohohoho!"
Highness had turned a healthy Sky Knight half-mad.
She smiled satisfied at his surrender, begging to go home.
'Now for the practicals!'
After first semester, a short week's vacation, then true Sky Knight practicals.
Finally, off to the wyvern unit outside the capital.
'I wanna fly! Through those skies!'
Soft ice cream clouds drifting in spring's warm sky.
Ride the balmy winds through the heavens.
Chest bursting with wind....
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'Of all places....'
First semester over, week's rest began.
Studying continental history and culture in the library, when Highness appeared.
Shedding trainee uniform, back to her fresh comic-character smile from our first meeting.
She dragged me out without a word.
And I had to board the carriage.
Mad Dog Count Kaldain.
Current head of the Berserker Count House, the Empire's most feared rabid dog.
Rumors he bit through his own umbilical cord at birth—believable or not, his infamy reached even my ears, atop his house's name.
'Highness... what about you.'
A great empire's count house, yet its notoriety scared off all marriage prospects.
The Petrin house: once it bites, never lets go till death.
Who'd offer their son or daughter?
No one wants their beloved blood turned mad dog or berserker.
"Highness."
"Yes, big brother."
Highness, even more spirited since spring.
Post-class, she'd ditch study or training for palace flower gardens.
Red flowers bundled in her hands.
"At your age, aren't marriage proposals flooding in?"
On this continent, nobles could marry from 15.
Younger noble daughters became political pawns.
"None."
Highness said it casually.
"No marriage?"
"Have to. I'm the only one to inherit the house."
"With who?"
"A man, obviously."
I felt stupid asking.
Who'd give their daughter to the Empire's most infamous house?
"Big brother, you don't know?"
"What?"
"Our house has never received a proposal first."
"Then?"
"Naturally, we Petrins pick the partner, and it's done."
'Whoa! What? Total mobster family!'
"Wh-what if they refuse?"
"Refuse? Pfft, who would? Refusing makes that house our eternal enemy till extinction."
"....."
No point talking more.
I now knew why all in the Bazran Empire feared House Petrin.
Ultimate stubborn shitshow.
Best summed up House Petrin.
"Highness is here! Open the gates!"
'Already?'
A place that made even fearless me tremble.
The tiger's den, announced by the escort knight.
Grind grind grind!
The grand mansion's gates opened.
Clatter clatter.
The carriage rolled smoothly through.
'This is a noble house?'
Grand mansions near the palace in the capital.
All titled nobles could own one here.
Provincial fall-back nobles skipped it, but politically ambitious houses strained to own one—it was trendy.
This Count house mansion before me.
Vast.
Even Korea's top tycoons couldn't match this in Seoul.
Past 3-meter fortress-like walls, House Petrin's estate.
A long, antique three-story building with ~100 windows, and a lush blue garden screaming money.
Central fountain sprayed elegantly.
"Hoho, smaller than the palace, but decent, right?"
'Decent? This is jackpot.'
One perk of nobility.
Dozens of soldiers and knights on guard—no need for fancy security.
No unmanned system beats mana-wielding knights with eyes.
'Hollywood stars'd kill for this.'
Spring-bloomed nameless flowers everywhere.
Highness and I strolled the garden post-carriage, enjoying noble leisure.
"Hup!"
Clang!
"Guh!"
"Get up. Falling to this is no fun."
"H-head of house, please stop. No more today...."
'Head of house?'
Only one here fit: Petrin Count.
"Hoho! Dad's betting against the knights again."
"Betting?"
"Yeah. Loser does dinner dishes or mucks stables."
'Dinner dishes! Horse shit!'
Knew they weren't normal, but this?
Lords and knights—untouchable authority to commoners.
Servants' work from them? Unbelievable.
"But isn't it unfair? Berserker Count versus knights?"
"Pfft, unfair? Dad mucks stables sometimes."
"....."
Unbelievable, yet Highness said it straight.
How could an imperial Count muck horse shit?
"When I trained in sword, same. Lose a bout: fetch water, clean walls, laundry—lost countlessly."
Her casual past confession left no doubt.
I'd learned she never lied much.
'Whoa!'
We naturally crossed garden to mansion side—training grounds?
The sight:
'One versus ten!'
Petrin head sparring knights with live steel.
Not to death, but armor tore, blood sprayed.
Gulp.
Dry swallow escaped.
Flash.
Eyes met a man standing haughtily, bloody sword in hand.
Not tall, but sturdy square jaw, fierce eyes, thick brows, full lips.
Arrogance—no, madness—radiating.
'Count Kaldain!'
The man who'd downed a dozen knights, eyeing me: Highness's father, Mad Dog Count Kaldain de Petrin of Bazran Empire.
"Daddy!!"
"Highness~!"
Highness ran.
Instantly, his face ballooned like bread man to full moon.
Arms wide, he scooped his grown daughter.
"Eung! Missed you!"
"Haha, kiddo, Daddy missed you so much I couldn't sleep."
'Ugh....'
Even hedgehogs don't adore offspring like that.
Tossing Count dignity, father-daughter affection show before knights.
Love overflowing everywhere.
'All tough.'
Training ground pitted deep from brutal bout.
Knights rose, minor wounds everywhere.
Their aura: raw power, not mana.
The terrifying strength Highness exuded too.
Pure grit, Marines' ghost-busting trademark.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
"You're Kaier?"
Affection show over, Count Kaldain eyed me.
"Greetings formally. Sky Knight trainee Kaier."
Highness's adopted brother—her father.
No slacking.
"Pleasure. Shall we greet properly?"
'Properly?'
He nodded, suggesting as much.
"Daddy, go easy. Don't hurt big brother."
"You rascal, worry about Daddy, not your brother?"
"Pff, like you'd worry about yourself?"
"Got it. Since our Highness picked him as brother, I'll go easy."
Talk proceeded without my input.
'Truly unconventional.'
Imperial Count house.
Top-tier nobles, no need for words.
Yet no blame for Highness adopting commoner me as brother.
Oddly unique Petrin Count house.
"That your sword?"
"Yes? Yes."
Not trainee blade, but one taken from Piyor Viscount's knight at my waist.
"Looks like southern knights' sword. Thick blade, balanced—hallmarks of Dafis Kingdom knight-issue."
'Amazing!'
Proving sword-mad house: plain, unmarked blade, yet he nailed Dafis origin.
"Draw it."
"Yes?"
I double-checked the quiet command.
"Highness, didn't tell you our guest protocol?"
"Why bother? We're sparring anyway."
'Spar?'
Unprepared bout with Mad Dog Count Kaldain?
"Three moves to down the youth: 10 gold!"
"Nonsense. Sky Knight trainee—five moves at least! Five for 10 gold!"
"Deal! Everyone, place bets!"
'What the hell!'
Petrin knights I'd met at palace inner keep: dignified aura.
Now, they pulled mercenary stunts shamelessly.
"Don't like me yielding first move?"
"N-no, not that...."
'Crazy!'
Mansion had me dreaming noble etiquette, formal dinner.
'Figures, beyond my station anyway.'
Unavoidable Count bout.
Clang!
Drew sword.
'Let's go, Mad Dog sir.'
Sword in hand, stray thoughts vanished.
Blade Knight me wouldn't pass this chance.
"Hoh, sword brims with spirit! Good! I'll go full tilt!"
Flash!
Words barely out, blue mana shimmered on his bastard sword.
'No holding back!'
Whiiiing!
Drew surging mana from core.
Poured strongly into sword.
"Here goes!"
Count yielded first.
Lightning strike at his head.
'Yes! This thrill!'
All pent-up stress poured in.
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Clang!
'Whoa!'
Jolting feedback up blade to palm.
'Mana, strength, speed—all monstrous!'
Peerless among peers at Sky Knight Academy.
Yet Count parried easily, snake-tongue thrust incoming.
Swoosh!
No room for lapse.
Called spar, but blood feud swordfight.
Kclang!
Head strike slid wind-like, wildly arcing to waist.
'Fluid yet fierce!'
Seemed casual, but clash numbed palm.
"Haha! Not bad, lad!"
After dozen exchanges blocked, he retreated 5 meters, booming laugh.
"Big brother! So cool!"
"Whoa! Kid's got chops!"
"Doesn't look like head's going easy—blocked ten already...."
"Pfft, can't call myself proper knight now."
Highness cheers mixed with knights' disbelief.
"Take this one."
Seeing me unshaken, Count geared to end it.
'Petrin secret swordsmanship?'
Heard storied martial houses had unique styles.
Top-tier: Petrin Count.
Hazy intangible aura from his blade.
Blue mana plus domineering energy.
Swoosh.
No slacking: packed mana tight, awaited.
"Tat!"
Short shout.
Swoosh.
Distance closed instantly.
'Huh!'
One thrust, yet eyes saw five-six blades.
"Snake Phantom!"
Someone gasped it.
'Afterimage!'
But all felt real.
Mid-thought, his blade hit mine.
Clang!
Smashed first charging blade.
Then second aimed at heart.
Kclang!
Blades rang clear.
'A-all real!'
No illusion.
Profound technique birthing phantoms.
Kclang!
Instinct swing clashed third, bounced.
Count's eyes flashed surprise.
'Ugh!'
Mustered dregs to block fourth at gut.
Kclang!
Four clashes in blink.
Whirl.
My blade couldn't resist recoil, flew airborne.
Snap.
His sharp edge at my throat.
'L-lost....'
First defeat since Kalian continent.
Lived diligently, no slacking—yet lost.
Magic/spirits would've changed it.
But life's one shot.
Loss is loss.
"Who are you?"
Count asked quietly.
"Kaier."
"Hmm...."
Sword at throat, he pondered, groaning.
"You blocked my four shadow blades as a Master... Unbelievable opponent. How at your age...."
Playful Kaldain turned grave.
A honed blade himself.
'M-Master!'
I was shocked too.
My first defeater: a Master.
Blade Knight me nearly matched a Master—dreamlike.
"Good! With your skill, entrusting our Highness is no issue!"
'Huh? Entrust? What?'
Sudden weird words plunged me to thought.
"Wooo! Amazing, young friend!"
"Blocked our head's strike like that!"
"What're you lot doing! New friend's here—grand welcome's our tradition! Tell the steward! We're drinking nose-crooked tonight—prep booze and grub aplenty!"
"Yessir~!"
Cheers and Count's roar before I recovered.
'This really an imperial Count house?'
I dazedly scanned.
Fit bandits or mercenaries: Petrin Count house.
"Sigh!"
Only a soft escaped sigh.
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"Pour! Drink~!"
"Kahaha! Beer, I've awaited you."
"To Empire's peace and Petrin House—cheers!"
"Cheers!"
'So, Petrin Count House's founding ancestor, imperial merit holder, was a mercenary?'
Explained why Count and knights ditched decorum.
Empire founding contributor: captain of infamous brute mercenary band.
That blood in Petrin Count House.
Time passed, yet ancestor's spirit preserved raw.
"Big brother, drink."
Highness, pure Petrin blood.
Proving women more than looks: huge silver mug foaming beer, pure smile at me.
"Yeah, cheers!"
Who cares how.
With kindred fun folk, this heaven.
Clink!
Mugs clashed.
Gulp gulp.
Cool beer down my throat.
'Kaaah, killer!'
Frosty chilled brew.
Magic-stored: enough for two lifetimes.
"Ah~!"
Highness's service: smoked sausage on fork.
Adult salons? Pfft.
"Kaier, how's it?"
Mid-chug, Count objectless queried.
"How's what, sir?"
Eyed the ticking bomb Count with mug.
"What else? Ditch aimless imperial Sky Knight gig—join our house. Was buying extra wyvern; yours."
'Wyvern!'
Hundreds of thousands gold each.
First sight today, yet gifting? Kaldain.
"Whooo~! Congrats, kid!"
"Kuh, jealous. Took me ten bone-grind years."
Most Sky Knight knights cheered his words.
"Grateful, but politely decline."
"Decline?"
"Yes."
No brainer.
Better buy wyvern with cash than indenture to Count house.
All soul-binding chains?
Not interested.
"You don't get it: for commoners, getting wyvern for Sky Knight these days is star-plucking hard. Skill irrelevant."
"Still no."
"Our house or I burden you?"
Slight frown at second no.
"No."
"Then?"
"Don't like anyone over me. Even the Emperor."
"....."
Dead silence post-words.
Knights' eyes chilled.
Taboo: Emperor.
But no meant no.
"Know that could be treason?"
Count's stiff query.
"Possibly. But I spoke my honest heart."
No fear.
Master Count or empire enemy—I'll speak my mind.
"....."
Silence followed.
Kaldain eyed me troubled.
"Haha, hahahahahahaha!!"
Then burst loud laughing.
"Good! Great! A man's got backbone! But remember: say that to other imperial nobles—not me—and that's your funeral day."
'Manly yourself.'
"Like you, Count."
"You too, lad."
Some man-talk needs no words.
This moment.
Raised mug.
"To Petrin Count House~!"
"To!"
Knights roared response.
"Drink, my knights! Tonight, with fate-weaver Romero and goddess Sephir of bounty and revels! Hot passion in hearts, lofty spirits in wide mugs, noble knight ideals in minds—cheers!"
"Cheers!"
Mercenary antics, knightly souls: Petrin Count House.
Its living energy intoxicated me.
'Feels great!'
One thought: get smashed tonight.
Treasure bonds with true men of Petrin Count House.